Evanescence
by Octavia Kendall
Summary: Alfred lost his brother and his father when he was very young. He grew up and seemingly got over it, but down in his heart, he can't let them go... and has to try. (FrUS) (Character death) (Based on Evanescence songs)
1. Prologue: Hello

The school bell rang, triggering a chain reaction of other students to come barrelling outside to play. It was raining, but they didn't care. They still played around.

"Hey, Alfred! Don't you want to play?!"

The American didn't stir as the Russian called out his name. "Alfred?"

An adult came and picked him up, taking him into his arms. "Come on, Alfred. Let's go home. Come on."

The American sobbed into the Frenchman's shoulder loudly. "Now, now. No. Don't cry. Now, come on. Your brother's home alone, and I'm sure he misses you."

|§|

"He stopped breathing," the Austrian doctor said, approaching the Frenchman and the American boy. The Frenchman sobbed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bonnefoy."

The Frenchman shook his head. "First my husband, then my son..." He picked up the American and held him close.

The American boy sobbed. "What are we going to do now?"

"Stay here," the Frenchman said.

 _Hello_ , a voice whispered into the American's ear.

 _Who are you?_

 _Your mind._

|§|

The American boy kept a smile plastered on his face after being absent for a few days for the funerals. He couldn't bear living anymore. He was just hoping it was all a bad dream... that they weren't really dead. Maybe he would wake up soon. It would all be over.

Later that day, at lunch, the American broke down into tears and crying. He was pulled aside and his teachers talked to him. His father, however, was called and informed of the situation by the guidance counsellor. The American boy listened. "He's practically broken," she explained.

"No, I'm not," the American whispered to himself. "And you can't fix something that ain't broken."

The Frenchman came out, picking up the American boy and taking him out of the school building.

|§|

"Do you still miss them? Is that what happened?"

"No."

"Good. It's been two weeks; you should be over it by now."

 _I lied, father._

|§|

The American boy woke up. He walked downstairs, searching the rooms. All he saw was the Frenchman.

It wasn't a dream.

His brother and father were still dead.

He was never sleeping. He tried to think. Memories of his brother and his father came flooding back to him, first bringing a smile to his face before bringing tears.

 _That's all that's left._

 _They're gone._

 _Gone._


	2. Missing

**TEN YEARS LATER**

Francis sipped his coffee lightly as he read the newspaper and Alfred came downstairs. "Good morning, mon fils."

"Mornin', Dad." He slung his travel backpack over his back by one strap, grabbing a bottle of cold, pre-made coffee out of the fridge. As he was about to leave, Francis put a hand on his shoulder.

"Where are you headed, Alfred?"

"Out."

He chuckled. "Where, specifically?"

"Gonna meet up with Lud' outside the cafè down the street; we're gonna do somethin', but I don't know what. Guess Lud's surprising me."

Francis chuckled. He should have suspected that his son's German boyfriend was behind this. Why the backpack, though? Was he just packing in case he ended up staying the night at the Beilschmidt residence? Francis smiled, not thinking any more on the matter.

"Have fun," he said, watching Alfred run out the door. He waved, but the second Alfred left, he broke down into a nervous panic. This was the first time in God knows how long that he had let Alfred out of the house alone; was he going to be alright?

Hopefully.

|§|

Alfred listened to the radio as Ludwig drove.

 _Please, please forgive me,_

 _But I won't be home again._

 _Maybe someday, you'll look up,_

 _And barely conscious, you'll say to no one..._

"Good song," Alfred muttered as he felt Ludwig wrap an arm around him and kiss his forehead. "Lud'!"

Ludwig chuckled. "I love you, Alfred."

"I love you, too," he said quietly before gagging. "Can we stop? I feel nauseous."

Ludwig looked over at him, concerned. Then he pulled over on the side of the road, where Alfred jumped out and started vomiting into the nearby vegetation. Ludwig got out, as well, patting Alfred's back as he threw up. He eventually came back into an upright position, where Ludwig wrapped his arms around him and kissed his cheeks.

"Is something wrong? Pregnant, maybe?"

"No. We used condoms last time, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Then, I don't know."

"Maybe I'm just carsick."

"Maybe." They got back into the car and Ludwig drove off.

|§|

Alfred chuckled as he walked through the door, where Francis was waiting for him on the couch, smoking a cigarette and watching television, his sleeves rolled up and his hair tied back into a ponytail. He looked up from the screen. "Welcome back. You were gone for a bit."

"The night was young, and so am I."

"I was scared that something had happened to you. If you didn't come back by midnight, I was going to call the police."

"You wait twenty-four hours to report someone missing, don't ya?"

"That's what they say, but that's not required. You can report anyone missing at any moment you get suspicious. Now... are you alright? Did anything happen while you were out?"

"I got carsick on my way to the club that Lud' and I were headed to. But I recovered and I'm fine."

"You went to a club? What club?"

"Does that matter?"

"Alfred, were you drinking?"

"Yeah."

Francis put his head in his available hand. "What did I tell you?"

"I'm mature enough to handle it."

"You're 19 and under legal drinking age. Ludwig is only 20; he's underage, as well. I'm within the correct parameters."

Alfred scoffed. "Nothing bad happened to me!"

"But if it had-"

"Shut the hell up! Stop controlling my life; I'm not a child anymore! I've graduated high school, gotten a driver's license, I'm employed, and I'm engaged!" He showed Francis the silver band around his centre finger. "I'm mature. You should move on."

"Did you? Don't you still grieve over your father and your brother?"

"I miss them. I want to know-"

"You forgot what they looked like. You don't know what they sounded like. You don't remember anything; you just remember who they are and how they're related to you."

"Shut the fuck up, Dad! They still mean a lot to me!"

"Sure, they do." Francis sighed, letting out a puff of smoke. "Go off to your boyfriend or something."

Alfred grumbled, tears lining his eyes. "Fine! I will, then!"

He left the house, slamming the door behind him.

|§|

He knocked on Ludwig's door, grumbling about how he was going to kill Francis for everything he said, how he was going to move out into Ludwig's place and marry him, how he would never have to live with Francis ever again.

He looked down at his watch. He had knocked three minutes ago. He rang the doorbell. He waited three more minutes, but no response. He opened the door slowly. The television was on, but there was no one in the living room. Every light was turned off... but there was light poking out of the bottom of Ludwig's door. He slowly opened the bedroom door. Ludwig was asleep on the bed; that's why he didn't respond to his knocking and the ringing of the doorbell. He pushed the door open the entire way, but freaked out when he saw someone else on the right side of Ludwig's bed.

He had short, bright red hair with a curl on the side of his head. His skin was pale, and his eyes were closed, indicating that he was asleep, as well. Alfred panicked; there was white gunk all over the sheets. Not only was he sharing a bed with another man, but he had sex with him, as well?

Alfred ran out of the room- along with the apartment- in tears.

|§|

Francis sighed. "I anticipated this, Alfred. Germans don't play fair; they cheat and play dirty. I warned you about dating him, didn't I?"

"Yeah..."

"And what happened to you?"

"I found him cheating on me."

Francis nodded. "That's right." He poured a glass of authentic French red wine and slipped it into Alfred's hand. "Now, drink up."

"I thought you said that I shouldn't be drinking because I'm so young."

"Alfred, I make exceptions; you know that. You've seen me." He took both of his hands and put them around Alfred's available one. "Now drink." He poured himself a glass, lightly tapping it against Alfred's with a smile and sipping it.

Alfred looked down into the glass, seeing his reflection back up at him before he took a sip.

|§|

He woke up on the couch with Francis. The Frenchman was still awake, running his fingers through Alfred's hair. Alfred looked up at him. Francis looked down and smiled.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"Promise me you'll never even lay eyes on that German again. I don't want to see any more hurt than you are."

Alfred nodded. "I promise."

Francis nodded, messing up his already quite unruly hair. "That's my boy."


	3. Everybody's Fool

"So, what did I just get told?"

"I slept with multiple people before finally settling down with Arthur and having the both of you."

"Tell me _that_ story."

Francis nodded with slight chuckle. He shook his head, but (having seen Alfred's confused face) nodded again, turning his head forward to begin the story. "Well, it started on July 1st..."

|§|

"Francis, wake up," Arthur whispered, shaking Francis vigorously.

The Frenchman woke up angrily. "What?"

"My water just broke."

"Shit," Francis whispered, pulling out a few towels and draping an old blanket over Arthur's legs.

"It hurts," Arthur whimpered.

Francis rolled his eyes. "I'd be worried if it didn't hurt, doll. Now, come on." He used both of his hands to grip one of Arthur's, kissing the Englishman's cheek in an effort to soothe him. "Let me check you, okay?"

He let go of Arthur's hand, carefully stepping around to the foot of the bed and pulling a measuring tape out of his right front pants pocket, measuring the progress of Arthur's dilation. "Seven centimetres," he called out. "Three more, okay? Hang tight." He stepped back, sitting next to Arthur on the bed and doing the same thing with their hands as before, situating Arthur's hand on top of his and putting his other hand over Arthur's.

"Francis," Arthur said after about ten minutes, "I think I need to push."

Francis stood up, coming around, pulling out the measuring tape, and checking Arthur's progress. "You're ten centimetres. Ready?"

Arthur nodded, starting the complicated and difficult process of giving birth. Francis gripped onto the Englishman's hand as the latter pushed hard, trying to get the baby out of him even the littlest bit. After the first few hours, the young men were greeted with a shrill cry. Francis rushed to the foot of the bed, grabbing the baby that had landed on the edge.

"Hello, Mathieu," Francis said softly. He wrapped the newborn baby boy in a towel, holding him close to his chest. Arthur smiled as his husband came over, holding their son in his arms. He reached it to grab the baby, but he soon started screaming again. Francis grabbed his husband's hand. "Amour?"

"I think there's another one, Francis!"

"It's probably just the after-birth. Just a few pushes."

No matter how hard Arthur pushed, however, nothing came out. Francis gripped onto his husband's small, delicate, pale, soft hand, realizing that their little Mathieu was going to have a baby sibling.

|ß|

"Three days," Arthur whispered, in too much pain to get any louder.

As the man had already stated, Arthur had been in labour, still, for three days straight. Mathieu had been sent with his uncle Lovino while Francis helped Arthur give birth. Francis sighed, beginning to sing to his distressed husband and unborn baby.

" _Perfect by nature,_

 _Icons of self indulgence,_

 _Just what we all need;_

 _More lies about a world that_

 _Never was and never will be..."_

Arthur, having caught on, decided to join in, despite his obvious pain. " _Have you no shame? Don't you see me? You know you've got everybody fooled..._ " He groaned. "Francis! It's coming out! NOW!"

Francis gasped. They had been waiting for three days- three entire days- for the second baby to finally arrive. The second Francis saw the head coming out of Arthur's anal opening, he grabbed onto it and helped him pull it out. The second the entire baby's body was outside of his (it was indeed, a male) father's- and technical mother's- body, he screamed and cried and whined and screeched. He was kicking and swinging his little fists at Francis as his father attempted to clean him and wrap him up.

"Hello, Alfred," Francis whispered to his newborn son, rocking him back and forth. He started calming, slowly falling asleep in his father's arms. "We've been waiting a long time for you."

|§|

Alfred chuckled. "You guys didn't even know I was there. And it took Dad another three days to have me?"

"We never even figured out why," Francis added solemnly. "We just know it took him a few hours to give birth to your brother and three days to give birth to you. You were a true and literal pain in his ass, but... you were worth it in the end. You're so..."

 _Beautiful?_

 _Handsome?_

 _Perfect?_

 _Lovely?_

 _Wonderful?_

"Cute." _Damn!_ Francis said it wrong; it didn't come out as a way a parent talks to their child. It came out in the way as if Francis were saying that to Arthur. He blushed slightly.

Alfred blushed deeply, in contrast. "You really think that?"

Francis sighed. "Alfred, ever since you graduated high school, I've wanted to marry you."

"Isn't that a little-"

"Incestuous? Yes. Meant to be? Maybe. Wrong? Absolutely not."

Alfred threw his arms around Francis's neck. Both boys leaned in, kissing each other on the lips and meeting, slipping their tongues into each other's mouths and trying to make it go as far back into the other's mouth as possible.

To Francis, Alfred tasted like bourbon. He loved bourbon in all ways; the way it tasted, the way it looked, the feeling it gave him inside, the way it sounded (he could hear the bubbling of it whenever it was poured), and the way it acted (when going down his throat or through his digestive system, technically speaking). Alfred didn't only taste like bourbon; he was bourbon in Francis's eyes. Because bourbon was perfect.

They slowly pulled away from one another. "Wow," Alfred said, so out of breath he sounded like he had just run a marathon.

Francis was just as out of breath for reasons neither man could understand. "What?"

"I just kissed an older man."

"Ludwig's older than you are."

"A way older man."

"Fair enough."

"And that way older man was my father."

"I don't see you caring."

Alfred nodded. "You're right." He smiled. "I don't give a flying fuck about it. Because I love you."

"I always loved you," Francis whispered, earning him a kiss on the cheek.


	4. Even In Death

Alfred woke up with a groan. Both he and Francis sat up and looked at one another before laying back down and kissing. "Wow," Alfred said.

"I can't believe... I... I haven't had sex in years."

"You're an animal in bed..."

"Specifically, a tiger." Francis chuckled. "Rawr."

Alfred chuckled, sinking his head into Francis's chest. "I love you."

Francis kissed the top of his head, pulling him close. "I want to bring you somewhere today."

"Where?"

Francis didn't say a word for a few seconds, leaving the room quiet until he did. "Them."

|§|

Francis kissed the top of Alfred's head, holding him close as they looked at the latter's brother's grave:

 **Matthew Bonnefoy**

 **1998-2007**

 **Our immortal**

"Why did you put 'our immortal' on the grave?"

"He may be dead, but he lives on forever in our hearts. Our love for him makes him immortal, and he is here with us in spirit, still."

Alfred nodded. "Where's Dad's grave?"

"Over ther- Quelle?"

Alfred turned his head to where Francis was now pointing. There was a girl with long black hair, sitting on her knees in front of his father's grave. He couldn't read it from the distance at all, but either way, she was obstructing his view.

"Qui à elle? Quelle à elle nom? Alfred?"

Alfred sighed. "I don't know who she is, meaning I don't know her name- listen."

 _"Give me a reason to believe that you're gone. I see your shadow, so I know they're all wrong... Moonlight on the soft brown earth; it leads me to where you lay... They took you away from me, but now I'm taking you home...! I will stay forever here with you, my love! The softly spoken words you gave me: 'even in death, our love goes on'..."_

"Singin'," Alfred said quietly, walking carefully towards the girl. She started to sing more, causing him to stop walking a freeze out of fear.

 _"Some say I'm crazy for my love, oh, my love. But no bonds can hold me from your side, oh, my love. They don't know you can't leave me, they don't hear you singing to me...! I will stay forever here with you, my love! The softly spoken words you gave me: 'even in death, our love goes on'... And I can't love you anymore than I do!"_

Alfred choked slightly as Francis placed his hands on his son's shoulders. He didn't even realize Francis was behind him; he didn't know that he had moved to come up behind him, much less that he had even moved from his original spot at all. They both looked forward at the girl as she finished her song.

 _"I will stay forever here with you, my love! The softly spoken words you gave me: 'even in death, our love goes on'... And I can't love you anymore than I do!"_

She turned around, laying her back against the tombstone. Her hair draped over the front of it, covering the entire thing and touching the ground slightly. Her skin was a deep brown, and her eyes- only visible because she was staring off into space somewhere- were an even darker brown, even close to black. She was wearing a dark purple sweater and a dark blue short skirt that just barely covered her. She had black leather boots that went up to her knees, and was clearly wearing black fingerless gloves.

Alfred looked back at his father. "Friend of his?"

"Old lover. Once they broke up and Arthur became my boyfriend, we stayed in touch and we were all friends. She was even one of the first people to feel either of you kick, and was planning to be present for your guys' birth, but she wasn't able to make it."

"What's her name?"

"I couldn't remember a bit ago. Now I do, though. Octavia Kendall; pretty little girl, isn't she?"

"Yes. She can sing really well, too."

"Yes, she can. When Arthur was pregnant with you two, and you would kick and leave him unable to sleep, he would call for her. She would come running in and she would sing so beautifully, you two would go to sleep right in the womb, and Arthur was able to sleep again. It was great, I tell you."

"Having someone help calm down the baby?"

"Think about it. You two were still in the womb. And yet, this girl- who was only fifteen at the time of your father's death- had the ability to calm you two down and put you to sleep before you ever came into the world."

"That's great. Amazing. Really cool."

"And she always smelled like cherry blossoms and rose petals. She was stick thin and in shape. Spoke fluent French as much as she could English. She had delivered a few babies before she found out Arthur was going to give birth to the two of you, even though we thought it was only Mathieu at the time."

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but gasped when he saw the girl in front of him. It was only then that he saw two braids on the side of her head that were strung around and tied on the back of her head. The braids were highlights sapphire blue, which matched her outfit quite nicely.

"Francis," she said. Her voice sounded graceful- if that was even possible- and she looked so, too. Her waist was so tiny, Alfred thought she was going to lose her balance and fall over, even if she was standing perfectly still and not moving. But she was standing fine, and didn't even tip a muscle.

"Octavia," he said to her in response. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting old Bushy Brows," she said with a chuckle. She looked at Alfred, meeting his crystal blue eyes with her oak brown ones. "Who's this gentleman?"

"This is my son, Alfred," he said. "He was born along with Mathieu."

"I remember the pictures, but... you grew up to be really handsome. Not saying that I like you, I'm just describing you." She didn't say it nervously, either; she sounded as if she was telling the sincere truth and meant every word she had just said. "You look a lot like Arthur used to."

"Thank you," Alfred said. He was sure he was blushing a tinge, but if he was, Octavia didn't say a thing about it. She took a few steps away and waved.

"I've got to go. Goodbye; au revoir." She turned her back to the boys and walked out of the cemetery.

Alfred cleared his throat. "She was nice."

Francis smiled. "Hasn't changed in twelve years."


	5. Hello

She came over the next day. Francis cooked a special dinner, and Alfred was excited for obvious reasons. In fact, he never thought he would be happier- or more excited, in a way- in his entire life.

As Francis was setting out plates, there was a knock on the door. Alfred walked over, putting his hand on the doorknob, turning it, and pulling the door to. "Hello?"

She smiled. _"Hello, I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to... Hello..."_

Alfred chuckled. "Come on in, girly!"

She chuckled, as well. "Oh, Alfred. Don't think that I can't see the look in your eyes whenever you glance over at me. The answer is... do you know how old I am?"

"You were fifteen when my dad died, but I was nine. Shit."

"Exactly. Meaning I'm twenty-five, and you're nineteen. I'm closer to Francis's age than yours."

"Now, now," Francis said, coming over to the foyer to talk with them, "Octavia, you were six at the time of the boys birth. I was twenty-four. Meaning, by the time Arthur died, I was thirty-four... and you were fifteen. I'm a perfect nineteen years older than you are."

Alfred smiled. "One entire me."

"Sure," Octavia said bluntly, not carrying much more than sarcasm with that one word. "So, Francis... dinner?"

"I made it special."

She smiled. "Food. I'm so excited."

Alfred chuckled. "We think the same way." He watched her sit down at the table, and when she had her back turned, he looked over at Francis and whispered, "She used to date Dad, despite being eighteen years younger than him?"

"It was platonic. She took it romantically, but Arthur considered her like a daughter... then you two were born. She would've fallen in love with you; she loves babies. She still goes gaga over them, and she's in her mid twenties."

"She's so young. How old were you two when you got married?"

"Arthur was already pregnant with you two, so that means... about five or six. So there."

"But she looks so much younger than she actually is."

"Oui, elle avait belle."

"She does have beauty. Anyway, what's for dinner?"

"I robbed your uncle Lovino of a recipe- his lasagna."

Alfred licked his lips. "Delicious!" He sat down next to Octavia, digging in the second he did so. She grumbled, looking at Francis. He nodded quietly and politely, and she began to eat silently and in a ladylike manner, while Alfred ate more like a pig.

"Seconds, please!" Alfred shouted after Octavia had only taken two or three small bites. Francis took his plate, putting a large serving on it and handing it back to him. Octavia scoffed in disgust before going back to eating.

"Maybe I should make more than one next time," Francis said, fixing himself a plate and sitting in front of Alfred. He began eating the way Octavia was, but it was clear that Alfred did not care what the proper way to eat was, as sauce was getting all over the table. Francis and Octavia were both thankful it only got on the table and not their clothes or food.

After about ¼ of her plate was gone, Octavia left her plate, standing, pushing her chair back in, and doing a formal bow, not coming back up. "Thank you for the meal, Francis," she said politely. "It was nice seeing you."

She picked up her purse, putting her arm through the opening between the bag itself and the handle and balancing the bag on her shoulder, gripping onto one side of the handle as she stepped out of the dining room and out the front door.

Francis sighed. "You can have that if you want," he said quietly, gesturing toward Octavia's plate. Alfred picked it up, using his fork to slide it down onto his plate and setting the now empty one back to where it was originally.

Francis stood up, pushing his chair back in, setting his plate on top of Octavia's old one and next to Alfred's before walking out of the dining room and upstairs. He stepped into the restroom.

|§|

Francis put his head in his hands. "No. Not this. I can't. He's my son. This... this is too much for us. We can't-"

He was bluntly interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door. "Dad? You okay?"

Francis sighed, standing and pulling the door open. "I'm alright. Come in here. Sit down. Please."

Francis sat back down on the edge of the bed. Alfred sat to his left, softly putting his hand on top of the Frenchman's and kissing his cheek happily.

"You know," Francis said quietly, "I miss your father and your brother. They were... my husband and my son. You may never understand how much they meant to me." His voice was without any sort of emotion- except for sorrow, of course- and the near silence and complete silence in the room combined with Francis's dull voice made for a very chilling atmosphere in the room altogether.

"When I knew that you were the only thing left for you, I told myself that I was going to take such good care of you and love you with all my heart so that way you would grow up to be respectable, kind, sweet, and... well, everything you could ever want to see in your own child's and more. And then... I let you date that German. I let you drink wine. I kissed you and I had sex with you. I ruined everything I had set you up for.

"And then, after trying to eat at dinner, I felt sick to my stomach. I rushed to the restroom, practically puking up everything in my stomach as I vomited into the toilet bowl. I got worried that the deed had been done, so I dug into the closet for an old box that belonged to your father. A box of... pregnancy tests." He reached into his pocket. "Alfred..."

He pulled out what was in his pocket, carefully and softly slipping it into Alfred's hand. He kissed his son's forehead and turned to the other side and Alfred opened up his hand to look at what Francis had handed him.

A pregnancy test.

And it was positive.


	6. My Immortal

The baby arrived nine months later.

|§|

Francis sighed, stroking his stomach lightly as Alfred made dinner. "She's kicking."

"Wow, really?"

"Yes. She's a wild child, just like her father."

Alfred chuckled, his voice not carrying any emotion other than excitement for his child to come into the world. "I can't wait for him to arrive."

"You mean 'her'."

"No, I'm pretty sure I mean 'him'." The odd couple had been arguing about the baby's gender since the day they both agreed that they would keep the child and not get Francis an abortion. Francis was sure that his baby would be born a girl, but Alfred was wanting for his new partner to give birth to a son.

Francis rolled his eyes, patting his stomach softly. "I can't wait. She'll-"

"He'll!"

"It'll be here soon, and then..." Francis fell silent, making a single grunting sound a little bit after doing so. Alfred looked up from the plates he was fixing and turned to look at Francis, who was sitting in place, not moving, aside from his twitching hand and his laboured breathing-

Laboured?

"Francis? Is something wrong? Is it coming?" Alfred ran to him, helping the Frenchman stand, feeling his stomach when he did. They froze as there was a pop and a splash, which was followed by Francis's pants and the bottom of his shirt becoming soaked. Francis then broke into a scream, falling to his knees and holding his stomach.

Alfred panicked, picking him up bridal style and running to the restroom, upstairs and a little ways down the hall. He laid Francis on the floor by the commode, starting the water at a temperature in between hot and cold. While Alfred was starting the water, Francis was able to get his shirt off with very little difficulty and moderate effort, but Alfred had to come and help Jim get his pants and underwear off. Said American carefully lifted the Frenchman, putting him into the water.

"Ready?" Alfred asked, measuring Francis's dilation. 10 centimetres on the dot. "Push!"

|§|

Within seven extremely painful hours, Francis managed to give birth to his and Alfred's newborn baby boy. Alfred was completely excited that he had been correct all along, immediately naming the newborn baby Declan Gordon Bonnefoy-Jones.

Francis sighed. "He's beautiful."

"Because he's ours."

|§|

Octavia softly ran her fingers over the inscription on Arthur's grave, singing softly as Francis held the baby and Alfred put his arms around his fiancée, an engagement ring around the Frenchman's ring finger.

 _"When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears; when you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears, and I've held your hand through all of these years, but you still have... all of me!"_

Alfred sighed. "I'll miss them, but not as much as I love you. I'll never stop loving you... with all my heart."

 **THE END**


End file.
